


084

by justsomerain



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, HRT, Hormones, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Transphobia (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 13:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2390003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsomerain/pseuds/justsomerain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye might not have always known she was an 084, but she was used to being seen as some sort of strange being.</p>
<p>Trans woman Skye, inspired by a conversation with @choctopus</p>
            </blockquote>





	084

**Author's Note:**

> Implied transphobia in Skye's past  
> Use of a homophobic slur in the text, also in Skye's past

Her real name isn’t Mary Sue Poots. A little lie, really, because she doesn’t like telling people her “real” name. She doesn’t like telling people of before. It helps that there are no connections to the past. Before she came to S.H.I.E.L.D., people came and went, but nobody stayed for very long (either by her choice, or theirs).

Miles knows. They’ve worked together for so long, and there’s their history together, even outside of just working together. And Miles was patient, and understanding.

When Skye first comes to the Bus, she’s afraid of giving herself away by slipping up, by people drawing conclusions, and despite everything, despite how understanding Coulson and S.H.I.E.L.D. are of her history as an anarchist hacker, she’s not sure of how understanding they would be of her history.

She knows how society looks at her, or how they would look at her, if they knew. She knows how people like her are treated, and it’s part of the reason why she’s kept off the grid for so long. Off the grid is safe, off the grid people don’t judge so much, because they’re all misfits and outcasts.

And she manages to keep it hidden for a while.

Until Simmons questions why Skye is lurking in the lab Fitz and Simmons share. Skye had her supply of hormones, and it had lasted for some time, but when it ran out, there had been only two options for her. It was get hormones somehow, without people getting suspicious, or leave the Bus. Not an option.

The bus was the first place in many years that felt almost like a real family. Despite all their differences, their little idiosyncrasies, all of them had their little things that made them outcasts in some way or another. (Though some bigger than others, having been dead probably trumped being part of a hackers organization.)

In the end, she had to choose the first option. Hidden away on the order list of chemicals, between whatever esoteric ingredients Fitzsimmons needed for their gadgets, were her hormones. Nobody would spot it, surely. Nobody would be so nitpicky. Nobody except Simmons.

Skye is in her bunk, typing away on her laptop when Simmons knocks, carefully, at her door. She’s wearing that face she’s got when she knows something is possibly going to hurt somebody’s feelings. For a moment Skye is confused, until she spots the little white carton box in Simmons’ hands, and then her blood runs cold.

Her chest and throat fill up with reasons, with pleas, and as she opens her mouth, Simmons just smiles, carefully, softly, as if not to startle her, and holds out the box. As Skye takes it, Simmons looks at her. “Can I come in?” Skye just nods, not trusting her voice entirely enough to say anything.

Finally, after what seems of an eternity of silence, Simmons speaks up. “I’m sorry, I thought you would need these.” She falls silent after this, and Skye is still not sure how to respond. Her instincts tell her to plead with Simmons, to tell her not to tell anyone, to forget this even happened, and after that, to leave the Bus at the next opportunity she gets, keeping her dignity, before they send her away. 

All that comes out instead is “Why are you acting like this?”. She’s not used to people taking this so easily. When she was little she’d get a real tough time for acting “like some sort of little faggot”, as one foster family had called it. She’d gotten burnt enough times to make her hesitant in her adult life to tell anyone, and even if she chose the people she told very carefully, it still sometimes ended up unlike she had expected. Though that usually mean it ended up badly, she hadn’t expected somebody who found out by accident to react like Simmons did.

The English woman stays standing at a careful distance, and shrugs at Skye, a timid gesture. “Well, it’s. I mean.” She stammers a few more things, and then shrugs again, pink in the face. Despite all her intelligence, Skye was always mildly amused to note, Simmons (and Fitz, for that matter) wasn’t the best at social interaction.

“Thank you.” It’s simpler than the other things Skye could have said, or asked, or done, and vastly preferable. She smiles at Simmons, and stands to hug the other woman.

As she has her arms around Simmons, she murmurs, again. “Thank you.”


End file.
